Brett on a day in his life .....

Alright. Its been a short while since I have checked in. I have surely done a lot within that time frame. My mind is busy with thoughts of work and school and activities and the book that I am finishing, so let us just dive in. I am at the office right now. I am waiting to talk to Christina or Anell, two of my superiors, about implementing my activist project. I am hoping to implement two small changes. One, I wrote a list of healthy affordable foods, and other unhealthy foods to avoid that we can hopefully give to refugees with their food stamp vouchers. The other is that I hope to give away writing journals, for the refugees to document their stories.

I suppose it has been a long day and I am a bit tired. By lunch time each day I am always a bit tired, from seeing clients in the morning. Every week I get between eight and twelve new clients, whom I interview for an initial social work assessment, and then make recommendations regarding their situations, for my supervisors to approve. It is not a bad tired, or a sad tired, just more of a mentally drained tired, time for a nap. 

I'm reading a book, by Bill Bryson called 'a short history of everything'. So, most of the thoughts in my mind at present concern the migration of early humans throughout the world. In Africa, there are stone tools that are approximately 1 million years old, hand axes, from a species of intelligent primates. For the time period of, if I remember correctly, 800,000 years, in a location in the Great Rift valley in Africa, hominoids worked in a sort of cooperative venture where they would harvest the stones from a mountain 10 kilometers from a site, where they would be made into axes, and sharpened. I forget the name of the species, maybe homo erectus or australepithecus or something. 

It just brings to mind that the history of human history in which we now live is so very small, this idea of civilization, which we frequently understand to be the length and breadth of the world, is so small. Nothing to keep things in perspective like the history of the natural world.

I'm not sure what I'm going to make for dinner tonight, maybe a pumpkin leaf stew. Buying spinach from the market yesterday on my way home from work, I asked the vendor what the prickly leaves next to it were. 'Pumpkin leaves' she replied. I nodded, newly informed. 'how do you cook them?' I asked. 'You peal them like this' (splitting the ends) 'and then you boil them in tomatoe sauce. And then you put soda in it' I nodded my head. She went on, 'You can also put peanut butter, it tastes very good'. I let out a laugh, to which she looked at me a bit confused, but then joined in and started to laugh as well. I told her I would have to come back to try it another time. Maybe today...

Kayley's visit with her mom

Two weeks ago my mom came to visit me. She arrived the day we got back from the Human Rights Conference. Right when we got home I called the hotel to see if my mom was in. Ben was able to drive me into town after dropping Rachel off at the hospital for her foot. That night my mom and I got dinner and I told her as many stories and experiences that I could think of.  Later that night we planned the week, trying to fit a much in as possible. I tried to create orientation week for my mom.

The first day, I took my mom to the waterfront bright and early to try and get on one of the Robben island tours. They were all booked up, so we just spent the day in Cape Town buying souvenirs for the rest of the family. The next day I went to my internship while my mother went to the District 6 museum. Unfortunately Joe was not there to give one of his amazing tours, but she still said she learned a lot. Visiting the museums is just the beginning of understanding the history of South Africa.

The following day we were booked for an all day tour of some of the beauties of Cape Town and Cape Point. The tour began with a cable car ride to the top of Table Mountain, it was a sunny clear day, and so we were both able to see the different towns. The other interns and I hiked to the top of Table Mountain earlier in the semester, but it was cloudy so after the 4 hour-long hike we could only see the cloud we were in.

After Table Mountain, our bus drove us to Hout Bay where we took a boat out around the bay to watch the seals. We were then on our way to Cape Point. On the way we saw baboons, ostriches and randomly camels (not wild of course), I was glad my mom was able to see these animals because they are a crucial part of the Cape Point experience.

When we arrived at Cape Point we got lunch, we ordered two pizzas (thinking they were small), turns we could only finish one. The old British couple that was on our tour found it quite amusing that we ordered two pizzas, and had a whole pizza left over. My mother made me carry the left over pizza as we walked to the lighthouse on Cape Point, for fear of a baboon attack. Honestly I was quite nervous about the baboons myself, every rustle in the bushes made me jump a bit. Walking back down from the lighthouse we happened to bump into the old British couple that again commented on our pizza situation.  When we then got on the bus, the entire tour group erupted with laughter as we entered with the pizza box (all thanks to the old British couple). 

After leaving Cape Point, we proceeded on our journey to Boulder Beach, where an African Penguin Colony lives. It was a really windy day so we were getting whipped with sand; it was quite painful but so good to see the penguins. Our next and last stop before we hit the hotel was Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens. Our bus driver was giving a tour of the gardens, naming some of the different plants and showing us the pretty ponds. As she stopped to talk about this one plant, I looked above her only to spot about 4 different spider webs and probably 6 HUGE spiders directly above her head. I immediately interrupted her lovely explanation of the plant with my terrified shrieks followed by my stealthy sprint to the other end of the field. As everyone was watching/laughing at my little show my mother translated those actions into words and told the tour guide to move because there were spiders over her head. After an embarrassing visit to Kirstenbosch, we headed back to the hotel; right after entering the hotel we realized the we left the pizza on the bus with the old British couple. That pretty much ended that day.

The following day my mom did the Robben Island tour while I attended class at UCT. After that I gave her a tour of the house and of Rondebosch. We bought some South African chocolates (P.S. I Love You bars) and South African cookies. That night we had a lovely dinner at Marita’s flat, where she met all of the professors and Zoë who held the human rights conference. The next day Meredith, my Mom and I took the train to Kalk Bay, where we walked around, shopped and ate enormous amounts of food (Kalkies).

The next day my mom left Cape Town and headed back to the states. After a watery goodbye I began to think about going home, and although I miss my family and friends so much I can’t even imagine leaving Cape Town. I showed my mom around this place, took her to my favorite spots, assured her that the train is safe even though the Hotel concierge says it is not and ensured she was safe and having fun. It was a weird feeling; it felt like I was showing my Mom around my home. I don’t know how I am going to be able to leave this place.

Brett's trip to Kalk Bay

Easter morning. I got up fairly early this morning, went for a short run, and now I am chilling in the spare room. We have a nice big brunch planned for us today, and an Easter egg hunt following that. The air is getting a bit brisker. The sun is still strong, but one can tell that winter is coming.

Yesterday, we spent the day at Kalk Bay. After a 50 minute train ride, we got off the train to a small fishing town. Walking across the street, we went into the small shops. The shops had a bohemian flare, with lots of homemade clothing and jewelry and small nick-nacks. There were dusty bookshops and Adam and I walked into one. It had rows and stacks of old, very old books, with brown cloth covers. On the floor was the head of an antelope, meant to be mounted on the wall but staring up from glass eyes. I walked into another room to see a whole assortment of mounted heads lying all over the floor. There was a wildebeest head, and various other antelope. There was also an assortment of animal skulls, along with some ancient maps. 

Another store housed strings of jewelry, hung with homemade beads. Adam and I were fiddling around amongst the trinkets when we noticed a small man behind the curtain of beads who was busy at work making the jewelry.  The stores smelled of incense and dust.

For lunch, we walked over to the pier on Kalk Bay. The pier extended out into the ocean, protecting a line of small colorful fishing boats in the harbor. Rachel and I walked over to the edge of the pier to see several seals swimming in the harbor. The seals were just chilling, protected against the waves, and peering up at the people looking down at them.

On the dock, some tarps were laid out on the ground, and fish, recently caught were lined up on the ground. It crossed my mind to purchase one, but they were at least two feet long, a bit too much for me. Also, only a few days before, I had bought a fish from the back of a pick-up truck near my work, a foot and a half snoek for R30 ($4.50). It was a good fish, and a great price. The only problem was that it was way too much for me, and food here goes bad a bit faster.     

For lunch, we ate at Kalky’s, a shack of a restaurant. The fish and chips were quite fresh, and cheap and delicious. A full plate of fish and chips cost the equivalent of R34 $5.00, something that in the states would easily be $15.00. We had a nice assortment of fried food, Leah and Sarah got the calamari, Michelle, the crayfish, Rachel and Brittany the snoek, and Adam and I the hake, on top of nice piles of French fries. 

Michelle's exciting new journey

This past week was an exhilarating one, as I got to see my first birth. I usually go with Susan or Ciska (they switch off being on call and seeing clients) to their appointments on Tuesdays. Since we returned from Jo’burg, Susan and Ciska have been adamant on getting me to a birth, so this week Susan was priming all the women who are due soon with little comments like, “yes, either me or Ciska will be there, and maybe Michelle too.” As I left last Tuesday, Susan told me to keep my phone on and with me at all times. There were seven women due in the last two weeks of the month, so I was officially on call.

There was a possibility that I would be called to a birth in the near future, as Susan performed two “stretch and sweep” procedures on women who were over-due that day. “Stretch and sweep” refers to a process in which the midwife will prime the cervix by literally stretching it with her fingers and sweeping her fingers around it in hopes that this will release hormones that will begin a feedback loop of contractions. The hormone is released, it goes to the brain, the brain sends signals to start contractions, these contractions open up the cervix more, and more labor hormone is released. It is a beautiful, and amazingly simple system.

I left the practice antsy and excited. Would the call come late tonight? In the early hours of the morning? Not until the next day? I turned my phone’s volume up as high as it would go. There would be no way I would miss the call. I woke up the next morning, and there was nothing yet. I went to my internship and patiently waited. Should I SMS Ciska? I decided not to, and to try and get my mind on other things, like compiling a budget for Gender DynamiX’s exchange program next month.

I returned home that afternoon, and a bunch of us made plans to go to the Taste of Cape Town, an annual event in which restaurants from all over the city bring food for locals and tourists alike to try. I was excited to go, but no sooner had we made our plans, my phone rang, obnoxiously loud. It was time. I picked up, and tried to hide much of the excitement in my voice. I needed to sound like a mature, capable apprentice. I got the information, and hurried out of the house, caught a mini-bus taxi, and was in downtown Claremont in no time.

Ciska had told me to tell the head sister (nurse) on the labor and delivery ward that I was an apprentice midwife joining her for the delivery. It was the first time I had referred to myself, out loud, as an apprentice midwife. It fit, I think. I got into the room, and Ciska caught me up on the situation. The woman in labor had been induced at 11:30 that morning, and labor had been slow and contractions spotty. At about 3:30, Ciska broke her water, and that’s when she called me. Labor had progressed quickly, and by about 6 p.m., delivery seemed imminent. My primary jobs were to run and fetch things that were needed, help get the delivery kit set up, and take note of things once the baby was born, like birth time, weight, height, and head circumference.

While laboring, the woman was walking around, leaning on her husband, sitting on a bosu ball, rolling her hips, humming, moving, humming. She was completely in her own space, and honestly, I don’t even think she realized I was there until after the birth. It was amazing to see Ciska’s many roles in that space. She was completely calm, guiding, leading, following. Giving instructions and taking them from the soon-to-be mother. She later told me that the only time she becomes assertive and gives directions that absolutely must be followed is when she needs something quickly, like to examine mother or baby. There was one instance in which I really feel that I could pin-point a key difference in midwife and obstetric care. As the second stage of labor neared, pushing, Ciska needed to make sure that she was fully dilated, which she would do through an internal examination. Ciska asked if she could examine her, and at first she said no. Ciska asked again, and told her that she really needed to check, and that she would not examine her without her consent, but that it had to be done. Ciska needed the woman to partner with her and work with her. In any other OB-lead birth, there would have been no question. It would be, “I am going to examine you now.” It got me thinking, had my GYN ever asked me expressly if she could examine me? No. It was always, “I need you to put your feet here, lay here, do this.” It was never a question, and never a feeling of active partnership.

I stood watching as Ciska moved with the woman into a squat, with the woman leaning against the bed, her husband sitting on the bed behind her, and Ciska in front. The baby slipped out in an instant, it seemed. I was overcome with a short burst of emotion, but then remembered my duties of remembering birth time. 6:40 p.m. I was instructed to let Ciska know when five minutes had passed, and then they would prepare to cut the cord and deliver the placenta. Dad cut the cord, and Ciska called me over to tell me about delivering a placenta. Following its delivery she showed me how to examine it and make sure that there were no pieces missing, as it could have dire complications for the mother.

We situated Mom and Baby in a warm bath, dealt with relatives, other nurses, paperwork and suddenly it was already 9:00. It was a whirlwind, and I was flying high. On the car ride home, Ciska asked me about my feelings, and I tried to tell her about this unbelievable feeling. I could do that every day, I said. She smiled and told me that no matter how hard a birth is, or how tired you are, it’s that high that keeps midwives going. We live on it.

Since that birth, I have come to terms with the fact that I am resigning myself to a lot more school, seeing as how an undergraduate degree in anthropology and women’s studies will not help me much. Instead of starting all over again, I will probably look at an accelerated BSN/RN program following my graduation next May. Unfortunately this means taking chemistry and statistics over the summer, anatomy and physiology and genetics in the fall, and a few other core nursing requirements. I am a little nervous, but at the same time excited to embark on this new journey.  

Leah's inspiration to work for social change

About a week ago we returned from our week long excursion to Johannesburg and Kruger National Park. I loved it! All of it. We first went to Johannesburg where we were met with many of the issues that I had not directly confronted since orientation. The issues of race, class, government, and oppression that had made their way out of my everyday vocabulary quickly slipped back in. It is not that I had forgotten about these problems, it is simply that I had become accustomed to seeing them in everyday life. I had fallen into a pattern of accepting the presence of these problems without analyzing each facet of every one. Luckily, my analyses have been rejuvenated.

The Apartheid Museum made me think about activism. Immersed in academia, it is easy for me to slip into a helpless “what can we do?” mindset. Governments are so bureaucratic, every official is corrupt, and they designed the system so that we cannot change it, so what is the point of trying? However, analyzing and studying the history of the anti-apartheid struggle always changes my mind. Not only did these citizens have a government that was not responsive to them, but it was outright attacking them. Still, they overcame the system. This victory inspires me to go back to American and work. Yes, it will not be easy. Yes, so many Americans, especially University students, are apathetic. Yes, the government is huge, racist, sexist, classist, and unresponsive. The important point to recognize is that there have been worse situations. Black South Africans were in a worse situation. Still, they fought and won. There is still hope for change in America, in society, because there have been just victories. Movements with positive, fair, equalitarian, honorable missions have emerged victorious.

When I return to America, I am going to change society by starting with myself. I think that change can come if every single person makes sure that they are always acting in a calculated manner. Each person can control which institutions and corporations she supports. Each person can make sustainable lifestyle choices that will positively impact the environment. She can choose which establishments she pours her time, work, and effort into.

It is easy to forget how privileged we are in America. We have so many rights that we often overlook the importance of each. We can protest, assemble in groups larger than three people, and speak out against our government without having to be afraid of being shot (we will probably just get tazed…). We are privileged to have a better system in place with regard to freedom than many other countries. With that said, we are not perfect. That is where the need for change lies.

My point is simply this: if each person did what she/he/ze could to support peaceful and just organizations and institutions, the world would slowly become a better place. 

Adam on the highs and lows

Our trip to Johannesburg and Kruger National Park was a truly memorable one.  From what I saw of Johannesburg I’m happy that I’m spending my study abroad experience in Cape Town.  It just seemed that it was a city that is still very much stuck in the past as opposed to Cape Town which seems to be much more progressive and liberal.  For instance if you are an open homosexual in Johannesburg it is much less accepted by society than it is in Cape Town.  It was these little facts that I picked up along the way from the people that lived in Johannesburg that caused me to form my view of the city.  Overall it just made me realize how much more Cape Town really does feel like “home.”

           

Kruger was a great experience.  All of the animals and the bush were so amazing.  It was beautiful and the experience of going on an African safari is something that I feel everyone should do at least once in their lifetime.  We saw rhinoceroses, elephants, hippopotamuses, hyenas, and some of us even got see a leopard.  The walking tour through the bush really allowed me to pick up on all of the small details about the environment that you miss when you’re riding in the truck.

So as of now we have about six weeks left here in Cape Town.  We’re going to a human rights conference this weekend, which should be interesting.  I’m getting a sense that for many in the house homesickness is beginning to set in a bit more than usual.  I think it may just be the realization that we’re back from our excursion and people are coming to grips with the reality that there is still six more weeks of internships and classes.  I am even a little daunted by this fact.  I think it may be the monotony of it all that is getting to people.  Either way I plan to make the most of my last month and a half of my time in Cape Town. 

             

Katherine on changes she would not have expected

While we did many things on our spring break excursion, one moment during our trip that stuck out to me was when we took a tour of the Chris Hani Baragwanath Hospital in Johannesburg. It is the largest hospital in the southern hemisphere.  Our guide who works on a program called “Health 4 Men” showed us around many areas of the hospital and then brought us to the Board Room.  She discussed how “Health 4 Men” works and what kind of patients they see.  It was started in part to provide a place for gay men to come and receive health information.  There is a large gay community in Soweto (the biggest township in South Africa) where some of the “Health 4 Men” program participants come from.

During her speech, the lady who showed us around said that “Health 4 Men” does not promote homosexuality but understands that it exists and therefore is providing a place for sexual health awareness.  I was surprised at how offended I was by this woman’s comment about homosexuality being something they do not wish to “promote.”  After she made the comment I quickly glanced around the room wondering if I had misheard the woman, but other people were frowning and making unpleasant facial expressions, as well.  While I am heterosexual, after living and interacting with three people on a daily basis who have declared their sexual orientation to be within the LGBTI range, I have become much more sensitive to how they are perceived.  It is not always easy for them, especially when people are not willing to accept them, even if their sexual preference is not “straight.”

At the end of her talk, she asked a few times if there were any more questions and when everyone seemed to be done asking questions I finally decided to challenge the woman’s comment about homosexuality.  I told her that I do not find homosexuality to be something that, if promoted, is contagious and will make other people become gay.  I then asked her how the gay community can feel welcomed or comfortable coming to “Health 4 Men” if the program continues to stigmatize homosexuality.  The woman’s response led me to believe that she had not quite meant what she had originally said.  She informed our group that homosexuality is still extremely shunned in South Africa and that if “Health 4 Men” was seen as a homosexual program than those who were known to come to the clinic would be harassed or abused.  While I understood what she was trying to get at, for some reason I still was bothered by the use of the word “promote.”

I was proud of myself for challenging the woman’s statement.  Before living and interacting with a few people who are not heterosexual, I would have most likely let the comment go and not have asked the “Health 4 Men” woman any questions.  I was surprised when one of the people in my group thanked me for being an ally and countering the woman’s statement.  Instances like this show me that I have changed in ways I would not have expected before coming on this trip.

Sarah on 'experiencing' Sharpeville

We all got back from Kruger yesterday, exhausted and eager to be “home.”  I never realized I subconsciously considered 10 Lock Rd. to be such a place, but when the plane touched down in Cape Town and we got our first glimpse of Table Mountain, I felt as if our journey was over and we were home.

Our excursion to Johannesburg and Kruger National Park was successful, albeit exhausting and sometimes even overwhelming.  One of my favorite parts was our visit to Sharpeville.  I was amazed at how well it all worked out…I became interested in their community, and we so happened to be going on excursion in the area, and then Marita and Vernon were nice enough to fit it into our already packed schedule.  Everything worked out flawlessly.  We went on a tour led by some of the community members I had met in Cape Town.  The story of the “Sharpeville 6” was clarified in greater detail (I had met a member of the “Sharpeville 6” in Cape Town as well).

A mob of about 200 residents of Sharpeville marched through the streets, protesting exorbitant rent prices (during the Apartheid Regime, blacks were not allowed to own land, thus enabling the government to remove them from their houses if they were not able to pay ridiculously high rent prices).  The mob proceeded to the mayor’s house and asked him to join their cause.  Upon his refusal, he fired a revolver into the crowd, injuring a handful of the protestors.  When he ran out of bullets, the mob burned down his house, killing the mayor in the process.

In response, the Apartheid government singled out 6 of those supposedly in attendance and sentenced them to death by hanging.  After eating their last meal, with mere hours before their imminent hanging, their death sentence was terminated on account of international demand.  Their belated release in 1990 has left 2 survivors with mediocre jobs: one man sells vegetables and stays away from even the idea of politics to this day; one man finally found a job just this past year cutting grass at the municipality.

We were able to see the building that was burned down, or at least what is left of it.  The house was never rebuilt, and only a small weathered frame remains, unprotected and available for all to see and touch.  The frame of the house is actually in an old woman’s front yard.  All of us sat down under the frame with the woman and her children, taking pictures and communicating in any we could.  It was one of my favorite experiences on the excursion, yet I could not help but think of those six people who probably could never come near that site.  A place of such peace and happiness for some is a place of horror and pain for others.

It was also upsetting to compare the progress of Soweto to the progress (or lack there of) in Sharpeville.  For whatever reason, Soweto has been built up while Sharpeville has been completely overlooked.  Tomorrow is Human Rights Day, previously commemorated as Sharpeville Day.  As a protest to yet another example of neglect, the community has decided to protest their former national holiday.

 I was happy, however, to read an article commemorating Sharepville on the Yahoo homepage today.  It described the ceremony at the Garden of Remembrance that we also visited, as well as giving insight into the daily lives of citizens in the community.  Such recognition is what the community strives for, and I hope our visit will spark the acknowledgment and appreciation they deserve.